


Goodbye

by strexcorpsfavorite



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sort of sad stuff, WTNVSS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 04:08:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2837486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strexcorpsfavorite/pseuds/strexcorpsfavorite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My work for the WTNVSS! </p><p>Prompt was: Goodbye</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SparkandSmile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkandSmile/gifts).



There were days that Cecil liked to tell himself that Carlos was just as hopelessly lost as Cecil himself was without his boyfriend. Days that involved thinking again and again that any second, the scientist would be back home, back in their apartment, back in Cecil’s arms completely safe and sound. There were other times that he fully imagined scenarios involving Carlos surprising him with his arrival down at the station; practically flying into the room, interrupting his broadcast, and pulling him out of his chair. They’d dance to the weather, and steal needy kisses from each other until it ended, and even after. Everything would be perfect and normal and they wouldn’t have to miss each other anymore.

None of that ever happened.

And the longer Cecil was lead to believe that it was going to, through phone calls and text messages (every one of them assuring him that Carlos was still looking for the door,) the less and less he believed it was true. Recently, he had found himself sleeping on the sofa, unable to force himself to climb into their bed. It felt empty and cold, and not at all like home. His days were spent out of the apartment, distancing himself from the memories they’d created, and the most common place that Carlos could see him through the picture frames. How was he supposed to keep telling himself everything would be fine, when it was so clear to everyone else that it wasn’t? 

He’d made it home from the station that evening, kicking his shoes off near the door before he even bothered to look off into the darkness of their apartment. Inky black stared back at him, shifting vaguely in a mostly non-threatening way. He wasn’t too sure what the soft scuttling was across the floor boards just around the corner was, but Cecil wasn’t necessarily bothered by it. It was comforting almost, knowing there was something else besides him there. The man’s shoulders were slumped as he found his way to the sofa, expertly navigating the messes on the floor as the television was already blaring to life, his fingers reaching for the remote. He needed more noise. Something else to drown out the ear-ringing silence their once-happy home now provided. He wasn’t even sure what was currently playing, but someone was yelling, and another person was lying on the ground, and it was at least mildly distracting. A few moments later, Cecil’s phone clattered against the tabletop. Carlos would call or text, and he wasn’t sure that he could even handle hearing the other man’s voice at this point without fully breaking down. But sure enough, a short while later, the device was trilling sharply, alerting him to the scientist’s call.  
“Hello.” His voice was dull, and his eyes closed as he sat back heavily against the sofa cushions. 

“Cecil, hey. Hi. Gods, novio, it’s good to hear you. Today’s been rough…”

Cecil was already zoning out, lifting his free hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose. There it was. The sign that Carlos was, once again, about to tell him that he’d made no progress. He wasn’t back in Night vale, or anywhere close. He was still locked away in his desert world.

“Don’t. Carlos, please,” Cecil managed, throat feeling tight as he spoke. “Please, I can’t—I don’t think I can do this right now.”

Carlos’ voice cut off, the tail end of it being something along the lines of, ‘and even though I made it over the dune…’ The radio host drew in a shaky breath, eyes feeling wet at the quiet mumbling of questions reaching him.

“Everyone came back. They all came back and you didn’t.” He could hear the other’s breathing hitch at the accusation. 

“Cecil, I’m trying. I’m not… I mean, they were citizens, Cec. I’m just, well. I’m just me. I’m not a native. We’ve been over this. It’s just going to take me a little more time to—“

“I can’t wait a little more time, Carlos! I want you home. I want you to find that _damned_ door!”

There was a long stretch of silence between the two of them, the only noise being a few sniffles from Cecil’s end, and the occasional rustle as he wiped vigorously at his eyes. They’d argued about it before, and it wasn’t anything new, but this time around, he couldn’t quite contain his emotions. 

“Maybe we should just face the facts, Cecil.” 

His entire world just about stopped, and Cecil found himself nearly dropping his phone onto the wood floor. He fumbled at the device momentarily, hands moving quickly despite everything else seemingly going at a snail’s pace. Face the facts? What did that even mean? Before he could stop himself, he was ending the call with a mash of his thumb against the touch screen. There weren’t any facts to face. There wasn’t anything that should be keeping Carlos, his perfectly imperfect, wonderful Carlos so far away from him. He didn’t want to hear any of what the scientist had to say. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop Carlos from calling back. Nor did it stop him from attempting four more times in rapid succession. Around the sixth or seventh call, Cecil finally managed to answer again. Immediately, the other’s voice reached him, sad and slightly confused. He was apologizing, going on for several minutes as he tried to get Cecil to see reason. It wasn’t working.

“I don’t think I’m coming back. I know you don’t want me to give up on looking. I get it, I do. I want to be home as badly as you want me to. But Cecil, all of this, it isn’t getting me anywhere. I’m not any closer now than I was when all of this started. I’m just… I’m stuck, novio. I’m stuck here.”

“I know.” Cecil’s voice broke, and he rested his cheek heavily against the arm of the sofa. Carlos was right, wasn’t he? It didn’t matter how hard he searched, or what devices he came up with, he wasn’t going to make it back to Night vale. Carlos wasn’t an actual citizen of the town, there was no way around that. And if they were going by the rules of that damn door, he wasn’t going to be allowed back through. “Gods, I know. What am I supposed to do without you?”

“I don’t know. What do I do without you?” The scientist sounded disbelieving, his own voice thick and rough. Neither of them wanted this. “Why can’t we just be happy, and have nothing go wrong for once? Why us, Cec?”

The two men sat, phones cradled to their faces, as Cecil cried and Carlos gave up a few minutes into whispering soothing words to him. There was no point in them. It wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay.

Their world, their relationship, everything was just falling apart in just the span of this phone call. It took a total of eight minutes and thirty-seven seconds (Carlos was counting. He needed something to do,) before Cecil composed himself enough to actually form words again. And even then, they were broken and interrupted by small hiccups and sniffles.

“So this is it then? We’re not going to keep pretending that you’re coming back. We’re just done?”

“I know it’s hard—“

“We’re just done?” Cecil repeated, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

“Yeah, Cec. It’s really no use anymore. So I guess that means we’re done trying.” 

“And us? What we have? What about that? We’ll never see each other again.”

Carlos took much longer to answer than what Cecil would have liked, the radio host standing to move through the apartment, straight to their bedroom. His bedroom? No, theirs. He was sure of it.

“I don’t know. I really—I just don’t know. It’d be cruel, tugging you along like this. You’re right. We won’t see each other ever again, Cecil. How could I do that to you? It might take a while, it might not, but Gods, I want you to be happy. And you’re not going to be, if you’re attached to someone you can’t even see.” 

So, he’d been wrong. It was definitely a bedroom belonging solely to him now. Somehow, it made the room feel even colder, and even more miserable than it had been before. Cecil sat on the edge of the bed, what used to be Carlos’s side, and pressed a hand to his forehead. There it was. Not only was he losing hope in his boyfriend ever coming back, but now? He didn’t even have a boyfriend to worry about anymore. 

“I love you. You know that, right?”

“I know. I love you too, Cec. Be happy, okay? Promise you’ll be happy again. You’ll do your show, and get Earl to watch shitty Netflix movies with you, and everything will be fine again. You’ll be okay. We both will, alright?”

“I’m finding it so hard to believe you.”

Carlos sighed quietly, and Cecil could easily picture him doing the thing with his glasses. He’d remove them, rub at his face, and slide them back into place. He could see it clear as day. “I know. But you will be. And I will be. It isn’t as if I’m alone, and neither are you. Everything will work out just fine.”

“So, this is goodbye then?”

“I guess so, yeah. I’m always here, though, in a not-so… _Right there_ sense. But here, nonetheless, if you need me.”

“And if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m always a phone call away. I mean, a glance through a picture frame too, you know?”

“Yeah,” Carlos chuckled, and Cecil could hear the man’s smile. “I know. Goodbye, Cecil.”

“Bye, Carlos.”


End file.
